The Sanctity Of Life

We all value and protect our lives. The Torah reinforces this by commanding us to not only avoid endangering our lives, but also actively protect ourselves (Dev. 4:15).

{Valuing Life in the Wake of Death

This point is made throughout Parashat Acharei Mot. The parashah opens in the wake of the deaths of Aharon’s two sons by urging the Kohanim to be careful about their entry into the Kodesh HaKodashim so they “won’t die” (Vay. 16:1–2). The death of Nadav and Avihu was a tragedy; the Kohanim should avoid future ones.

In addition to safeguarding the lives of the Kohanim, the Torah distances them from all occurrences of death by prohibiting their touching or approaching corpses. Rav Kook explains that other religions involve their priests in the process of death and mourning: they administer last rites, bury the deceased, and eulogize them. Other priests are deeply associated with the mysteries of the occult. Judaism disconnects ours from death and involvement in the afterlife because we are meant to focus on this life (Me’orot HaRaiyah, Perek 2).

The parashah’s second perek reinforces the value of life by prohibiting the consumption of blood because it “carries the soul” (Vay. 17:11). Though we are permitted to take the life of animals we intend to eat, we should respect the value of life by refraining from consuming their blood.

The Torah goes even further by commanding us to cover the blood of (certain) animals and birds we slaughter. The Ohr Hachayim explains that just as we bury human beings out of respect, so we cover the blood of even animals and birds. Rav Moshe Weinberger elaborates (HPW, Acharei Mot, 5784):

To counteract the diminished perception of the value of life that arises from the act of slaughter, Hashem commands us to show some honor and respect for the chicken’s life to restore the value and honor of life generally. When a person fulfills the mitzvah of covering the blood, he contemplates the fact that Hashem is so concerned about the value of life, even the life of a seemingly insignificant little bird, that He gave us a special mitzvah to instill respect for the preciousness of life within us. We must understand the value of being alive.

Acharei Mot’s third perek, which details the arayot (prohibited relationships), continues the parashah’s emphasis on the value of life by including the phrase “v’chai ba’hem, and live through them” (Vay. 18:5). 

How does life hinge on mitzvah observance? The Rashbam (Vay. 18:5) offers the simplest explanation: because violating arayot leads to karet (early death), life hinges on observance. Hashem wants us to live long lives, so He cautions us against sins that have the opposite effect.

Chazal explain that v’chai ba’hem adds another dimension. It teaches us that saving a life trumps mitzvah observance. Sustaining life is so important that pikuach nefesh (protecting life) overrides mitzvah observance. In the words of Rebbe Akiva, because “the mitzvot were given to Jews to live through them,” we violate them when a human life is at stake (Tosefta Shab. 16:14).

What Makes Our Lives Valuable

But this is not always the case. There are situations when we sacrifice our lives to avoid sin. These situations include the three cardinal sins, any sin in front of ten Jews, and even the slightest deviance from tradition at a time of religious persecution (San. 74).

Rebbe Akiva also agreed with this principle. Though he saw mitzvot as aiming to preserve and enhance life and generally prioritized protecting life over mitzvah observance, the Gemara (Eruv. 21b) tells us that while in Roman prison, he used the little water smuggled in to wash his hands rather than drink it.

The lesson is obvious. Though we value life, we have values that are even more significant and thus take precedence.

These values are, in fact, what make our lives valuable in the first place (Shemoneh Kevatzim 5:256). Our lives are worth saving because they are dedicated to values worth dying for. Breathing itself is not the ultimate value; our values and their realization make life valuable.

Rav Ovadya Yosef, zt’l, told a story that reflects this idea (HPW, Chayei Sarah, 5781).

A rabbi once visited a town for the first time. The locals gave their honored guest a tour, taking him to see the shul, the school, the mikveh, and, finally, the cemetery. The rabbi was shocked to see that all the matzeivos (gravestones) memorialized children who had died young: Reuven, 12 years old. Shimon, 11 years old. Levi, 15 years old, and so on. “Was there a plague here?” he asked. “A pogrom? Why did they all die so young?”

“No, rabbi,” the mayor explained. “In this town, we keep track of the time we spend each day learning Torah and doing mitzvot. At the end of the day, we count up those hours and write them down on a little pad. At the end of each week, month, and year, each person tallies their total hours of Torah study. When someone dies, we add up the total time they spent learning Torah and performing mitzvot. For this person, it was ten years, for that person, twelve. The ages on the gravestone are their Torah ages, not their biological ones.”

Chazal (San. 74a) derive the need to sacrifice our lives for mitzvah observance in certain circumstances from the commandment of “kiddush Hashem” (sanctifying Hashem’s Name) (Vay. 22:32). Our willingness to sacrifice our lives for Hashem’s mitzvot sanctifies His Name by attesting to and reaffirming the significance of His principles.

The Torah begins mandating and describing kedushah right after Parashat Acharei Mot, in Parashat Kedoshim, because the need for holiness modifies, complements, and even serves as the basis for Acharei Mot’sassertion of the value of human life. Our lives are valuable because and when we infuse them with holiness.

Our people’s dedication to our holy values has helped preserve us for thousands of years despite antisemitism and persecution.

The following story from the Holocaust, told by Dr. Yaffa Eliach, a’h, helps us appreciate this point (“Who Will Win This War?”, Tales of The Holocaust, pg. 103–105):

A slave labor battalion of Jews reached the Polish mountain of Bornemissza. The German commander stepped out from his covered wagon and gave one of the long speeches they had learned to accept as part of their daily suffering.

“I know that tomorrow is one of your most important holidays, Yom Kippur. It is an important fast day in your religion. I want to remind you that you are soldiers, soldiers on the battlefield during a time of war, and as such, it is strictly forbidden for you to fast. All those who fast will be executed by a firing squad.”

On Yom Kippur, September 27, they worked as usual. It was an especially difficult day because it rained heavily and everything around them turned into a muddy swamp.

When food was distributed, all the men, as if by prior agreement, spilled the coffee into the running muddy gullies and tucked the stale bread into their soaked jackets.

Kalman Mann and another Jew, also from a Hasidic family, recited the Yom Kippur prayers, whatever they remembered by heart. All the others repeated after them, while their tears mingled with the rain and their voices fought against the noise of hammers, axes, and the constant downpour.

Night came, and they fell, exhausted, at the foot of Mount Bornemissza, ready to break their fast. Just then, the German commander and a group of soldiers emerged from their covered wagons and ordered them to line up for roll call. The Jews expected the worst. Fathers parted from their sons, brothers said goodbye to brothers, and friends feared for their last moment together.

“I am a benevolent officer in the best German tradition.” Their fears intensified, for they knew what to expect when they heard one of these “generosity” speeches.

It was usually followed by the most catastrophic aftermath.

“I know that you fasted today, but I am not going to invoke the death penalty that you deserve according to the law. Instead, you will climb that mountain and slide down on your stomachs. Those among you who would like to repent may say they were wrong to disobey army regulations and to fast today. Those who would like to do so, please raise your hands.” Not a single hand went up.

And so, tired, soaked, and starved, the emaciated Jews climbed the wet, slippery mountain.

When they reached the top, they were ordered to slide down on their stomachs. When they reached the bottom, they were ordered to line up again. They were asked if there were individuals who wanted to repent and be spared the ordeal. Mud-covered figures with feverish eyes looked at the clean-shaven German officer in silent defiance.

And so, ten times they repeated the humiliating performance, each time with more determination, each time with more strength, climbing and sliding from an unknown Polish mountain which on that soggy Yom Kippur night became a symbol of Jewish courage and human dignity.

At midnight, as the rain abated, the performance was stopped. The men were given food and drink. They lit small campfires, trying to dry their clothes and warm their shivering bodies. Their faces shone with a strange glow as they sat around the small campfires at the foot of Bornemissza. It seemed as if the campfires reflected the glow of their shining faces and burning eyes.

A young German officer of low rank walked over to the group where Kalman and his son Yitzchak were sitting and said, “I don’t know who will win this war, but one thing I am sure of—people like you, a nation like yours, will never be defeated, never!”

We continue living as Jews today because of the previous generations of Jews who saw the value of their lives as rooted in their Jewish values. We inherited a valuable tradition and should do our best to live up to its values and, through this, serve as role models for our children.

We accomplish this not only by sacrificing our lives for our values, but even more so by dedicating our lives to them. Though we should be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, it is not what Hashem intends for most of us. He wants us to sanctify His name by living holy lives committed to His values. By doing so, we live lives truly worth living. 

Rav Reuven Taragin is the Dean of Overseas Students at Yeshivat Hakotel and the Educational Director of World Mizrachi and the RZA. His new book, Essentials of Judaism, can be purchased at RabbiReuvenTaragin.com.